Taming The Darkness
by Higuchimon
Summary: [one-shot, 12 stories, Yami no Malik x Yami no Bakura/Yami no Bakura x Yami no Malik, Psychoshipping] Death would have been preferable to the life he lived now, betrayed by everything: including his own body.


**Disclaimer:** I do not own any of the characters presented here and am not making any profit off of this whatsoever.  
**Title:** Taming The Darkness  
**Word Count:** 2,213  
**Rated:** R  
**Romance:** Yami no Malik x Yami no Bakura  
**Notes:** This takes place a few years after the Ceremonial Duel and somewhat in the same reality as my other fic 'Pain and Pleasure'. Comments and criticism gratefully accepted.  
**LJ Challenge:** This was written for the 12_stories challenge.  
**Summary:** Death would have been preferable to the life he lived now, betrayed by everything: including his own body.

* * *

He was mortal now. He was mortal and the _bastard_ wasn't, not anymore, if he ever had been. Bakura didn't know, and didn't care. All he needed to know was that _he_ was mortal and thus prey to almost everything that such frail creatures were vulnerable to. Hunger and thirst were needs he had long since become used to, and he did enjoy a good meal of rare steak now and then, to go with a good strong beer.

But there were other needs that he had, and those were what had led to where he was now. It was nothing he'd ever had to worry about before, even with his host's body having been that of a teenager. He'd never _needed_ hormones, so he had paid no attention to them.

Now. Now was different. _Very_ different.

Bakura stood staring out of the broad bay window, ignoring everything that was going on behind him, to the best of his ability. Before him was an impressive cityscape. Domino City was still beautiful, even after all of these years. Behind him was a sight that was not so pleasing. What he heard was bad enough. There were soft grunts and groans, the sound of flesh on flesh, and then a rising cry of unutterably intense pleasure. He knew what that meant; he'd heard it more than a few times in the last few years after all.

What was worse, he knew what would come after that. He didn't bother moving. There weren't too many places that he could go, and the bastard could and would hunt him down no matter where he went. It had happened before. While he wouldn't mind it happening again, he just wasn't in the mood for it today.

It was all but impossible to hear those footsteps, as soft or softer as the beating of a moth's wings, but Bakura was well aware when callused hands brushed against his cheeks. He didn't so much as bat an eyelash, however. This time he wouldn't give in. This time, the bastard wouldn't get him.

"Back off." His words were harsh and he slammed an elbow against the hard muscled body behind himself. "I'm not interested."

Dark Malik only laughed, not moving an inch. Bakura had known he wouldn't; the bastard wasn't _human_ at all. The movement had been more of a statement than anything else, and was one that he made frequently. Dark-skinned fingers began to pull briefly through Bakura's pale hair, and he jerked away again.

"I said, I'm not interested." He'd say it a thousand times until the other got the point. Or until …no, he wasn't going to let that happen again. It had happened _enough_.

Again that hideous laughter, and it was right in his ear, too. "That's what you always say." The former shadow turned beast of nightmares was always amused by Bakura's denial of him. "You'd think that I _care_ about what either of you want."

Bakura wanted to dig a knife into his tormentor's chest and tear out his heart. There were three problems with that. He couldn't yet get his hands on a knife, he was fairly sure that average steel wouldn't get through the bastard's skin, and to top it all off, he was very certain the son of a bitch didn't even _have_ a heart in the first place.

He'd find a way, though. Somehow. He might have been condemned to live in a mortal's body, but he would never live out his entire life in thrall to that twisted creature that hadn't even started life as an independent being! His lip curled at the very notion of it.

Once more, the dark shadow began to play with Bakura's hair. Bakura refused to move away this time. He would not let himself be affected. He. Would. Not.

Perhaps, he felt now and then, he _should_ have been more interested in hormones and sex and all that cumbersome _mortal_ moronity. It might have given him some sort of armor now.

The beast nipped at the juncture of Bakura's neck and shoulder, and the former thief had to hold back a gasp at the merged sensation of pleasure and pain. Malik's hands slid down Bakura's sides to rest on his hips for a moment as he repeated the previous nip, this time on the other side of his neck. Bakura drew in a deep breath, but refused to respond other than that. No. Not again. Never again.

"You taste so good." Malik all but purred the words out as he licked the back of Bakura's ear. "You hate me so much. Hate me _more_." He began to work little kisses down Bakura's back, touching places that had grown familiar from practice, each one sending another shiver through the thief's body.

Words did not exist to describe how much Bakura wanted to kill the bastard. _Death doesn't want him. Can't say I blame …_ Coherent thought was beginning to breakdown suddenly, and he knew what that meant. Far too skilled hands danced delicately across his backside in a pattern that he knew far too well.

Bakura wasn't entirely positive if he could remain on his feet that much longer. What Malik was doing sent uncontrollable waves of pleasure through him, making it all but impossible for him to think coherently, much less stay upright. And Malik _knew_ that, which was why he was doing it in the first place. And he knew so much more, and Bakura knew it as well, and hated what he knew and how he knew so much that it made what he had felt for the Pharaoh pale completely out of sight.

He managed a quick spurt of thought for the Pharaoh, Atemu, now in the same situation that he was. He didn't bother to look at the couch; he knew what he would see there. If he ever had had the chance, he would have killed him, just to put him out of the misery of existing like this. Not that Atemu appeared to _be_ miserable. Which was all the more reason for Bakura to do it, in his opinion.

But, sadly, thinking about the Pharaoh was quickly replaced by thinking about Malik, and the way he was slowly sliding, or being slid, down to his knees. Malik's hands continued to play with his hair. Bakura again tried to resist, only to have those hands tighten in his white mane and yank his head backwards fiercely.

Burning violet eyes, full of lust and madness both, stared down at him. "Time for the main course," Malik laughed darkly, then leaned forward and kissed Bakura roughly, biting and nipping at his lips until a thin trickle of blood seared its way down the thief's chin. And with that kiss came a wave of darkness and desire, wiping away everything but raw need.

A low, hungry growl rumbled deep in Bakura's throat as he began to kiss back, pushing back a little as he did. Malik's hands rested on his shoulders now and kept him from moving too much against the dark beast's will. Bakura didn't care; all of his resistance was being replaced by a lust that burned as brightly as his hatred did. This was what he had tried to avoid, knowing what could happen when Malik chose to exert his power.

In some way, when Bakura could think about it, it was quite ironic that the beast should have been returned to the world of the living with the powers and needs of an incubus. Bakura generally tended not to think about it. The fact that Malik's shadow _had_ been returned like that, leading to his own current situation, made him more than a little furious.

At least, that was how it was when Bakura wasn't in the incubus's embrace. When Malik worked his will upon the thief, as he was now…there were certainly other thoughts on his mind.

While they were in their home, the three of them wore very little to nothing altogether. Malik's hunger was great, and if he didn't bring home someone to ravish brutally, he would take one or both of them. Sometimes he did anyway, just for the enjoyment he took in seeing them like that. So, Bakura had only to lean forward to lick his tongue across Malik's length.

He couldn't say that he didn't enjoy this. Even when he was as sane and as in control of his mind and desires as he could be, he knew that he did. Malik knew it and Bakura _knew_ that he knew it.

"You're so talented." Malik murmured, his voice rich with lust and amusement as Bakura's tongue continued to work on him. Bakura tried not to pay attention to the tone of his voice, since that was just as much a part of the incubus's power as anything else was. Since he was doing this, he would focus on that, and nothing else. Not the way Malik's hand caressed his hair or the way his body reacted to knowing that Malik was pleased with his efforts.

Over and over he licked and sucked, taking a vicious kind of pleasure in nipping just a little as he did. Malik only praised him even more, the pain as much of an intoxicant to him as anything else would have been. Bakura wondered if it would be possible to find something that couldn't arouse the beast. Pain, pleasure, it was all one to Malik.

Bakura grunted as Malik suddenly pulled away from him, then grabbed him by one shoulder and tossed him casually onto one of the other couches. He could see Atemu from where he was, though the Pharaoh didn't appear to have noticed he was there at all. Then he had something else to concern himself with, as Malik knelt behind him, and those sleek dark-skinned hands were between his thighs, opening them. He braced himself with his hands, knowing what was coming next.

It was no surprise that after all of the _practice_ that he'd had, Malik had Bakura ready in a very short period of time. Bakura clenched his teeth as the other slowly began to press inside of him, taking it inch by slow, twisted inch. One hand rested on Bakura's hip, the other on his head, keeping a firm grip on Bakura's hair. Once deeply within, Malik leaned forward just a little and breathed softly, "Now."

Bakura did not need to ask what he meant. Experience had taught him exactly what the other wanted with no more than a word or gesture to express the command. He began to move back and forth, Malik still holding onto him, permitting him to move only at the pace that Malik himself found pleasing. Bakura bit his lip hard, unable and unwanting to stop the slow coil of pleasure as it boiled white-hot within him. He hated Malik, he hated what Malik did to him, but more than anything…

With each thrust and movement, his thoughts grew more and more scattered, until there was nothing at all he could think of except what he could do to make it better. Malik permitted him to move a little faster, and he did. Inarticulate noises of pleasure clawed their way out of his throat, erupting at last into a full blown orgasmic howl as the pleasure coil exploded, sending him completely over the edge.

Malik, on the other hand, took his time before finally reaching his own peak. As he did, he all but groaned in another kind of pleasure, and Bakura was somewhat vaguely aware of the hatred and rage reserved just for Malik in his heart being sucked out of him, feeding the twisted monster every bit as much as the sex had.

Too worn out now to do anything else, Bakura curled himself into one of the comfortable chairs. He needed a hot shower, a good strong meal, and a few hours of sleep. Then he'd be back to hating Malik again. Until then…until then, he leaned against the incubus's hand as Malik petted his hair.

"You always taste so very good, Bakura," the creature murmured. "I don't know what I'd do if you ever stopped hating me forever." His hand slid down to cup Bakura's chin briefly before he leaned over and kissed him quite thoroughly. This kiss, unlike the other, did nothing to ignite the addictive passions within Bakura. "Or if you stopped _loving_ me either."

"I don't love you." Bakura snapped the words out, pulling himself away as he did. "I'm going to kill you one day."

"You keep saying that." Malik laughed and pulled Bakura over to where he was resting on the couch, wrapping his arms around him. "You wouldn't want to even if you could. You want me too much now." There was a smugness that urged Bakura to strangle him in Malik's voice. Unfortunately, he could scarcely move at the moment. "If you really wanted to get away from me," the other said, leaning down to whisper in his ear, "then you'd kill _yourself_."

Tempting. So very tempting. Bakura had considered it more than once. But…in the end…

In the end, Bakura closed his eyes and hated Malik, and above all others…

He hated himself.

**The End**


End file.
